Number One
by Miznomer
Summary: Bobby is number one. Number one in what? In Miz's collection. Do they manage to snag him? AU. OC. Food and furniture. Certain inexplicable occurences. A few swear words, nothing serious. Mildly angsty in patches throughout, specially the last chapter.
1. Questions and Courts

*I do not own Iceman or Charles Xavier. They are strictly property of Marvel. Miznomer and the Trio, along with the style, plot and intellectual property is mine.

Questions and Courts

Miznomer was standing by an elevated table looking very solemn and serious in a resplendent black robe. Well, trying to look very solemn and serious at any rate. It's very hard to look solemn and serious in an official British powdered wig, despite what you see on TV. It takes a lot of getting used to, especially when you feel the wig slipping off one side of your head whenever you move so much as a finger to wreck the balance. Regardless, there were more pressing matters at hand. The Three were wearing simpler black robes and were excused from the burden of wearing wigs. Personally, they wouldn't have minded, they were actually looking forward to it. However, Miznomer decided that even one was too many. Which was true, it would only distract all of them from getting any work done. Chances were they would only giggle at each other for hours before staging some kind of pillow fight with the humongous puffy wigs.

_All rise before the honorable judge! _They rose and waited patiently for Miznomer to sit down before they followed suit. _I now call to order the discussion on the Capture of Robert "Bobby" Louis Drake, a.k.a. Iceman. _Miznomer intoned before slamming a shiny wooden mallet on the surface of the table. The issues we face include his high mastery and exceptional talent of his powers, his occassionally overprotective friends and an unethical psychic by the name of Charles Xavier. _Any questions before we proceed to the planning stages?_

Three hands shot up at the same time. _Hmmm…I need to settle this fairly. How about we go through this in alphabetic order? One per person, unless you can't think of one at the time, then the person will forfeit their turn. Does that sound fair? _Miznomer took a minute to compare their nodding to bobblehead dolls and another to stifle the laughter that followed the mental image.

Seeing that he had been granted permission, Andy spoke up first: "How do we catch him? I mean, like, won't he just try and fight us off and try to kill us?" _We will come to that in the planning stages, where each of you will offer me suggestions on the tactics we'll adopt._

Jay's turn. In an almost snobbish British accent and clearly enunciated words: "Even if we manage to catch him, why would he stay here?" _That's easy. You see, in different verses or realities, he will assume different personas. Now, I'm not calling him or any characters hypocrites, I'm just pointing out their nature as a character. If he were to be brought to our verse, he would happily stay._

Walt raised a hand despite being excused: "Since there are so many different Bobby's, which one is the one we are after?" _Excellent question. _Walt blushed and didn't't know where to look._ What we are actually taking here, is his essence. So if any you guys were having any worries that what we are doing is unethical, worry no more. All we need to do is to snag a Bobby from an original continuity and from there we will gain access to all the others. Yes?_

Andy had his hand raised: "Erm. Why must it be an original continuity?" In a way which was neither patronizing nor rude.

Because...i_f we were to take a Bobby from another writer's verse, he would be diluted in essence and possibly even tainted by the said writer's perspective._

When Jay did not voice his question immediately, the flow was somewhat interrupted. When he became aware of all the eyes patiently looking at him. He responded sheepishly: "I was wondering what will be having for breakfast." _That's not a question. We only want questions. _Miznomer's voice was trying to tell him something.

Jay didn't understand. "I...apologize?"

_Jay? Work with me here. _An obvious effort to change the tone of voice.

_That. _Miznomer paused to give Jay a very significant look. _Is not. A. Question. _Special emphasis was so apparent in the last word that a blind man couldn't have missed it.

"Eh? I…Oh!" The face became a thoughtful one. Uncertainly grasping at straws, he finally ventured: "What will we be having for breakfast?"

_A brilliant question. I'm glad you asked. _Miznomer aimed a beaming smile at his direction_. Toast with butter and honey._ Then, as if an afterthought. _But you guys can put anything else you want on it as long as it won't make you sick._

Caught up with the heated discussion of breakfast, Walt forgot to be raise his hand in his haste to ask "Could we have waffles instead?"

_Well, maybe some other time. If I let you have waffles, then Andy would want pancakes, then I would also have to make sure Jay gets his crumpets. Another time. I promise. Anyway, although those were very important questions we need to put them aside to move on to the planning stages._


	2. Planning Stages

*I own everyone but Iceman. Who unfortunately belongs to X-men, and primarily owned by Marvel**.**

**The Planning Stages**

The pretend court adjourned with another thunderous slam of the mallet, but the whole thing was falling apart anyway. They were all too caught up with the matters at hand to actually go about the whole thing. Besides, none of them really knew much legal jargon and rituals. To top it all off, they didn't have anything to go by. No prosecutors or defense or offense or whatever they called them. Moreover, Miznomer's throat was beginning to hurt from all that intoning. At least, that was the official reason that was stated for dropping the court trial scene, the Trio each had a suspicion that they didn't voice out.

Andy: 'God. Those robes must itch like crazy. Like, mine was bad enough and I got an easy one. And the wig. The wig must weigh like half a Christmas Turkey.'

Jay: 'Miz probably didn't want to risk hurting anymore feelings. You can't tell when someone is joking or not if they use that flat intone. Its really considerate of Miz but I'd feel so guilty if Miz was enjoying it when I wrecked the mood.

Walt: 'It must be hard sitting up there. It's such a vulnerable looking seat. I'd feel like I'd just fall off either side, there's no supports to stop you are there?

Either way, they were enjoying their breakfast while going through "The Planning Stages." Walt had meticulously sliced off the edges off his buttered toast and began slathering it with honey. And jam. And maple syrup. And agave nectar. And a liberal sprinkle of granulated white sugar. While eating the deadly calorie bomb, he suggested that they kidnap someone close to Bobby and use the said someone as bait.

Miznomer looked up from a very rational breakfast. Three slices of toast, the first had a small salad arranged on it, the second was covered with many thinly sliced meats, while the third was buttered and lashed with honey. A meal on toast. With three courses. _Too risky. Plus it can backfire in two ways. One, it might cause him to hate us in this verse. Two, when he integrates, he might be offended that we didn't exert more effort. _Then, a subtle glance to check if Jay had recovered from the morning's shock.

Jay had all his usual condiments next to his plate but he didn't appear to be very hungry. Miznomer decided it was time for a private talk. Standing up and politely saying "Excuse me", Miznomer reached over and grabbed his hand, dragging him up and into the next room. The other two didn't mind.

About five minutes later, any previous misunderstandings were cleared and Jay picked up his lobster tartare in a tube and squeezed it onto his toast and began eating. Content that peace had been restored and everyone was happy Miznomer asked for the suggestions to continue. Andy finished his miniature giant of a toast sandwich before offering: "What if we trick him into coming here? In a way which is neither immoral nor cruel? Or even better, if he didn't know we were involved?" _Hmm……I'll have to think about that one. Any others?_

Walt had a new idea: "Why not I go out and trap him? They do it all the time on TV." I was hoping to save that as a last resort, if all else fails. "A fair duel then?" _That might work. But we need some way to get him to accept the challenge._

Jay's spirits had picked up and was finally unburdened from the guilt that was preventing him from being helpful. "We could invite him over for a home cooked meal?" He ended looking around triumphantly, only to realize everybody was staring at him with their jaw hanging.

Miznomer recovered after a moment and looked around. Upon seeing that nobody had a problem with the plan. _On to the execution!!!_


	3. Execution

***I own everyone but Iceman. Who unfortunately belongs to X-men, and primarily owned by Marvel.**

**A/N: For a non-angst alternative. Read the next chapter. For those who can't figure how to do that (Yea, took me awhile too). Bottom right page. A grey little button with on it. Cute lil thing. Next to a scrolling option of all available chapters.**

**Bobby**

It had been a very long day. Long. Maybe it was long because he was heavy. Heaviness required more work. More work would mean more effort which when done alone would take more time. It made some kind of sense according to all those physics lessons he paid half his attention to. Among all that rambling that came from within, the word alone stood out. It was ironic. Alone was alone. There just didn't seem to be anyone or anything for him.

Bobby had just found a mysterious envelope in his bag. He was pretty sure it wasn't his, so he picked it up to see if he could discover the person who lost it. It was a small white envelope with an elegant cursive writing at the front. There wasn't the slightest doubt that the script was pretty, but it sure as hell wasn't practical. He struggled to read it. After realizing it was addressed to him, he was suddenly very excited. The various possibilities flooded his mind, all of them were naively optimistic. They ranged from late Valentines to confessions from secret admirers. He hesitated before opening it, if he opened it now, he wouldn't have anything to look forward to. On the other hand, he already had a very bad day and needed something to pull him through. Soon, if not immediately. He made up his mind. Concentrating on the space between his index and middle finger until he felt a slight weight to it. He moved his free hand over to remove the makeshift blade of ice from between his fingers, then went on to neatly slice the envelope open.

He held up the paper inside, it was just as crisp a white as the envelope it came in, with the same writing inside. He read it out loud to himself: "Dear Robert L. Drake, you have been cordially invited to the Glass House for a meal. Sincerely." Bobby furrowed his brow. He wasn't sure if this was one of those restaurant promo scams that led you to assume everything was free, and then charged such outrageous prices that it would be funny, if it wasn't so unfunny.

Decisions. Decisions. To heck with it. I need the alone time. I haven't gone out for quite a while. I'll dress up and give my self-esteem a little boost. I'll go and take a look at the place, it sounds fancy. Maybe I'll just order dessert or something like that. Just to be on the safe side, I'll bring some cash.

The possibility that it might be a trap appeared to have eluded him completely. Or maybe he was purposely turning his back on the possibility so he could "express his feelings".

**At the Glass House**

It was a very pretty place. All the glass on the lower floors were dark and impossible to see through, only the highest storey was brightly lit and transparent. From the front, you could see right into the building and it made him think about car showrooms for some reason. He took a few minutes to admire the décor of warm wooden floors with white tables and chairs that matched the walls. He noticed that the metal used in the building was a dull silvery colour and that a surprisingly small amount seemed to hold the structure together. Thin veins were uniform and symmetric at the front but snaked and spread out into wider branches holding onto the glass. It was all very refreshing to him, having to face unnaturally shiny chrome in all directions, at all times of the day was very sickening. He let out a long breath, as if he were inhaling the beauty and had no more room in his lungs. Then he stepped into the spherical elevator at the side of the building and went up.

**After**

When a slim male in a tux walked over to ask him if he would like anything to drink, he asked for a menu. His question was responded by a amused grin before anything else. He wondered if he had insulted a fellow customer. He hesitated and tried to think of something to say, panic raised and made his throat extremely dry. He could hear his heart pounding and his face felt unbelievably warm despite thinking that the room was comfortably cool just minutes ago. "This isn't a restaurant? Am I at the wrong place? You see, I was invited for this thing... And...Am I an intruder?" Words failed him miserably, he bent his head. A voice: "Jay, give the poor guy a break." Jay looked uncomfortable: "I just asked if he wanted something to drink. Honest!" The owner of the voice came over: "I'm sorry. He didn't mean it." Jay nodded furiously (in actions, not emotions) while trying to look apologetic at the same time. Bobby looked up at the owner of the voice, a tall man with arms that could wrestle an alligator, the man seemed indignant. "I'm Walt. That's Jay." Bobby muttered niceties and stood up to leave before his day got any worse, he couldn't believe it, entering someone's home.

He was headed towards the lift when another man appeared, a man he would not like to offend. He looked as if he could break several of your ribs while hugging you. The new man turned to Bobby and said: "Andy." Bobby nodded and headed towards the elevator. "You're leaving?" they exclaimed as one, as if shocked by the notion. "Obviously. I can't make a bigger ass of myself and my day sucks even more now. So, yes." The three spluttered and tried to think of an excuse for him to stay. The elevator door opened and he walked in backwards staring at the place. It was too good to be true. Of course something like this had to happen.

He was giving himself a severe talking to in his mind when a voice interrupted him from behind. _You need to press a button if you want to go anywhere you know_? A rhetorical question that was unintentionally acidic. It might have been too much if Bobby wasn't already numb from disappointments. He was about the reach out with a finger when the voice interrupted him again._ Hold on a sec, what's your rush? Let's talk for a while. How do you like my place? _Bobby somehow managed to talk: "You mean you're the owner? I'm really really sorry about intruding. I didn't know. I was looking for the Glass House and I thought this was it. I'm just gonna go now." The words died off again.

_First of all, that was very rude of me. I'm Miznomer, but please do call me Miz. Yes, I am the owner. There's nothing to be sorry about because you haven't done anything wrong. This is the Glass House and we wanted you to be invited as a guest. Please don't interrupt. _Miz had notice he looked rather flustered. _We made lamb chops with mint, spaghetti carbonara, Southern fried chicken, grilled steaks, shrimp fried rice and a whole bunch of other stuff because we didn't know what you liked to eat. _Bobby's face was unreadable. _We can order pizza if you want. Or go out for burgers. You look like you need some dessert. Definitely dessert. So. __Would you please come out of the elevator with me to join the others for dinner? _

Bobby thought. About physics. Of all the things that had happened. Of how everything sucked. Of his excitement to come here. Of his happiness upon reaching. Of when he thought he had to leave. "Yes. I think that would be nice." _We were hoping you would say that._ They headed out to sit with the other three whose look of relief on their faces was very evident. _So, you haven't told us what you think about the house?_ Bobby answered truthfully. "I could get used to hanging out here."


	4. Alternate Execution

After roughly three hours of gruelling preparation and at least two more to cook the actual meal, the Trio rushed to garnish the dishes and set the table.

Bobby rode up in the glass elevator while considering a certain book about chocolate factories and glass elevators. He wondered if this glass elevator would ram through the roof and kill him in another unnecessarily elaborate scheme of the "bad guys". He decided it wouldn't because if it did, he would shoot himself before he got impaled by the glass shards; or break his neck after he crashed into the ground; or rocketed into space and suffocated to death after swallowing a small low flying pigeon. The boredom was driving him insane. Just today, he disarmed the fourth half-assed trap-ambush-attack that was set for him. Honestly, it was kind of sad. Nobody did their research anymore.

First, it was Quicksilver who had assaulted him, sort of. That would have probably been the best fight of the day, if Quicksilver hadn't slipped on a frozen puddle and fell. What was embarrassing was that he didn't even have to do anything. The X-Men were checking out mysterious activity in another typical abandoned factory. There were so many abandoned factories throughout the course of his week that he forgot the details about what kind of factories they were. He only knew that they were always dirty. And cold. Not to him, he didn't feel the cold; but obviously it was cold. Cold enough to freeze puddles on the floor that your opponents could slip on before even getting the chance to hit you once.

Since he saw Quicksilver, he felt a building anticipation of something about to happen. It was usually a lame fight on a less than interesting day that initiated the discovery of some evil prophecy of apocalypse or something like that. Maybe another dangerous master plan by Magneto? Maybe a joined alliance between all the combined arch-enemies of the X-Men. Even a negotiation to buy or build yet another exaggerated weapon of mass destruction would be exciting enough. Bobby was about to be sadly disappointed, because all other crime fighting activities pretty much went downhill from there.

Then, some gang set fire to the building he was in and melded the door shut. It took approximately three minutes to extinguish the flames and apprehend the entire gang.

After that, some water-breathing dude tried to drown him by tackling him into a nearby pond. The guy had to be admitted to a hospital for hypothermia.

Upon remembering his efforts of trying to rescue the man who unsuccessfully tried to kill him. He recalled how easily and naturally he managed to do it without actual physical contact to make the hypothermia worst. It was ridiculous, as if he handled the same situation over and over and over. So much so that he had perfected the routine and was just going through the motions. Bobby didn't know whether to laugh hysterically or cry with frustration. He needed a change. A challenge. A hobby. Something. Anything.

That was why he accepted the mysterious invitation for "Dinner and Discussion at the Glass House". Even if it was a set-up, he would gladly fall into it voluntarily simply for the sake of something to do. A discreet bell sounded to let him know he had reached the floor he was supposed to go to.

Even though he could already see the room through the glass doors of the elevator, he wasn't ready for the sudden flood of bright light. It was as if he suddenly took off his sunglasses. He walked to the middle of the room to take in all that it held. Miznomer let him have a moment before stepping over with the Trio in tow to make introductions.

Bobby studied the situation. Obviously Miz was going to be the only one talking, the Trio busied themselves in the kitchen. He could see them moving past the doorway. Back and forth.

Suddenly Andy was at his side, holding up a silver platter: "Hor'dourves?"

Bobby said his thank yous and took what was wither a big crouton with little pizza toppings or quartered open sandwiches. "Cute…err…sandwich thingy."

Andy was indignant. "They're crostini! Preppy. But not conceited."

Bobby nodded apologetically. Andy returned the gesture but returned to the kitchen, leaving behind the platter of hor'dourves. He continued to pick at them and tried not to be a pig while Miz explained the reason why Bobby was invited. Miz took one or two of the mini-appetizers from time to time but the rest was entirely finished by Bobby. It might have been embarrassing if it wasn't Miz who kept encouraging him to do so.

Further into the conversation where details were being explained, Walt came out with another silver platter announcing in his best butler voice: "Main course?"

Bobby looked at Walt to attempt simultaneously expressing his thanks as well as his embarrassment at having reduced three people to servitude, but Walt was immensely preoccupied with removing the shiny cover. Bobby gave up and proceeded to carry on his discussion with Miz.

When Walt was finally done fiddling with the table, he placed a wide white plate in front of Bobby. Bobby thanked Walt who promptly disappeared into the kitchen without reappearing to give Miz anything. Apparently, he would be the only one eating this meal. It was only when Walt left that Bobby noticed that the contents of his plate was what looked like two unusually large grilled cheese sandwiches. He raised an eyebrow. "They really like their bread, huh?"

I believe that Walt told me this morning that those are panini.

Bobby smiled. Of course they were. Bobby said jokingly, "Let me take a wild guess, dessert is going to be bread and butter pudding isn't it?" Miz didn't reply but instead diverted the flow of conversation back to what they were talking about.

When it was time for dessert, Jay strutted out as if he was a supermodel hired to act as a waiter. He flashed a conspiratorial smile at the two at the table before taking away Bobby's plate and replacing it with a smaller plate. Dessert was a thick piece of puddingy-cake-bread with ice-cream at the side. Miz stifled a laugh while Bobby tried not to stare. Bobby still thanked Jay anyway. Jay was blissfully oblivious to any problems Bobby might have to the three-course meal of bread he just had.

"Enjoy!" Jay gave a theatrical low bow and slowly backed off.

In the kitchen, Andy and Walt dragged Jay away from the door as soon as he entered. They had questions for him, but Jay already began to answer their unasked questions. "I think that it is going on fine as far as I can tell. Miz is just getting to the end. He seems interested in joining but he feels obligated to the X-Men. I'm sure it will all be sorted out soon. Now, get moving! We only have about a maximum of fifteen minutes."

Bobby was still unsure. "You guys seem nice, you really do. But I'm with the X-Men. I can't possibly back out. It's just not…not…" He tried to find the right words.

I think you misunderstood. Let me put it this way. Just because you like chocolate ice-cream, it doesn't mean you can't have a scoop of vanilla from time to time.

"Huh?"

Let me put it like this. Lets say you like swimming. But you also like volleyball. They are different clubs altogether. That's not a problem, both clubs meet on different days. You can join both the swimming club and the volleyball club. It's not like you're taking on a second wife.

"But isn't it still a betrayal? I mean like if I joined a gang and stuck with them but went off to join another gang without telling my previous gang."

I don't think you're using the right metaphor. How about you're still in your first gang, but then you decided to join your local chess club, or GreenPeace, ok? Well, would your gang object to that?

Bobby shook his head.

Would they really need to know? And I mean really?

Bobby looked hesitant.

Look, I think you're misunderstanding the vow of silence. It's not that we do anything top secret. It's just that we consider ourselves exclusive. We don't want word to get out. There'd be jealousies and awkwardness and no privacy. Anyways, it's not like we do anything unethical or illegal. We're very against that sort of thing here. We still have our fun, but it's always benign.

Bobby interrupted not rudely. "Well, I have been really starved of something to do lately."

Miz nodded.

"So, where do I sign?"

At that, confetti fell from the ceiling and the Trio came out of the kitchen carrying a feast. Time for the celebratory party.

Bobby laughed. "Well that explains a few things, but I can't eat another bite." He paused. "I change my mind. I'm sure there's room for a few more crostini." His eyes widened. "Are those garlic buttered mushrooms I smell?"


End file.
